Once More
by The Painted Green Door
Summary: Slight AU. Matthew Crawley did not die on impact. In fact, he had exactly 3.49 minutes of consciousness…


Welcome! Thank you for taking the time to read _Once More._

I don't want to bore you with a very long author's note but I do have to address a couple of things:

1\. I was going through some of my old writings and stumbled across this story. After some touch ups I have decided to post the story and see what happens. This chapter is a pilot chapter of sorts. If it does garner enough support I'll continue with the story.

2\. In a perfect and ideal world I would be updating every week but I can safely say that will not happen due to the fact that life is very busy. You have been warned.

3\. If this story is not your type of Bertie Bott's Bean Flavour, please leave it unharmed so some other lad or lass can enjoy it to the fullest extent. Thank you.

4\. Disclaimer: I do not own _'Downton Abbey'_ in any way. The only thing I own is my brain and story plot.

I think that about sums it up. So if you will, please sit back, relax and enjoy _'Once More'._

* * *

 **ONCE MORE** __

* * *

 **By: The Painted Green Door**

* * *

 **Preface:**

He gasped for air.

Never in his life had he fought so hard to take air through his mouth in order to convert it to carbon dioxide. Not even when he was injured during The Great War. This was perhaps the hardest thing he had done in his life so far.

"Air," Matthew mused silently as he tried to fight the pain by clenching his teeth and stifling a gasp, "is more precious than we give it credit for." He tried to shift from the bulky weight of the automobile unsuccessful. He then briefly closed his eyes in hopes that it would ease the pain but it was useless. Matthew heard a shuffling noise but willed it to go away, the noise aggravated him.

"Can you 'ear me? Please tell me you ain't dead."

Matthew let his eyes open to find the sight of a man with his cap grasped in his right hand. He looked no older that fifty due to his lightly graying hair. If it wasn't for his worried gaze Matthew would have been a bit intimidated by the man. He had sharp features-hollow cheeks, mousy hair and beady eyes that clearly told the world that he had faced many hardships.

"Should've watched were you goin'" the man scolded, his mouth taking the form of an unpleasant scowl but the worry in his eyes continuing to be present. It was then that Matthew realized that this man was the driver of the truck that he had crashed into. Now, Matthew Crawley never felt comfortable pitying someone or vice versa-in fact he found it a somewhat embarrassing and unreasonable notion. He of course considered himself a compassionate man but he did have his pride intact, even in dire situations like these. However Matthew couldn't help pity this man in front of him for he would certainly take part of (if not all) the responsibility for this accident.

As Matthew became lost in his thoughts much to the distress of the truck driver, a rumbling noise as if thunder was suddenly present and then a sudden screech. This sudden chain of noises made Matthew feel a bit dizzy, especially since he was facing the world sideways. He tried to shift into an upright position but the weight of the car continued to pin him down and he was unable to see what the commotion was.

"Matthew!" shouted a voice that possessed a rather thick Irish accent. Matthew only knew one person who possessed such a voice.

"Tom." The young heir managed to croak out. It wasn't until Matthew spoke that one word did he realize he lacked his usual energy and found himself rather tired. Regardless of his low energy however relief filled his body knowing someone he knew was there.

Matthew caught a glimpse of the truck driver shuffling towards the front of the car, as if to deter the young Irishman.

"Let me through." Tom spoke, clearly not in the mood to play games. Matthew appreciated how composed Tom was despite the situation and the truck driver who after a few moments of consideration let him through.

Matthew watched has Tom cautiously surveyed the scene before him as he reached Matthew's line of vision. He could see the grim look that took over his good friend's face before he coughed slightly, but forcing a smile on his face nevertheless.

Tom Branson crouched down, a hand grazing Matthew's forehead. He then suddenly drew his hand back and Matthew could see the sticky substance of his blood all over Tom's hand. He grimaced before speaking, "Tom, if I die-"

"You won't." The Irishman said, forcing the words out of his throat, "Don't be ridiculous. This isn't that bad. You've been through worse."

The Crawley cousin appreciated that Tom was trying to remain optimistic even though he was clearly lying through his teeth. He tried to shift in a more comfortable position once more and grunted, still being unsuccessful. Tom quickly tried to help him but it was deemed useless.

"But I will Tom." He said gently, wheezing the phrase slightly from all the weight he was burdened with, physically and mentally: the automobile, the running of the estate, the fact that Mary, his dear sweet Mary, will have to raise their son alone, the fact that George will never know his father.

Matthew reached out to grasp his brother in law's hand, trying to organize his thoughts and words carefully and clearly. He realized his amount of breaths were limited and running out.

"You must make sure Mary is okay. Look after her." Matthew managed to get out under distress. He decided not to add ' _as if she was your own wife_ '. It would stir up too many memories. Too many painful ones for Tom.

Tom however refused to recognize that Matthew was on his deathbed, "But you're not goin-"

"Dammit Tom!" Matthew managed to shout out before clenching his teeth at the wave of pain that washed over him. He was never one for cursing but if he had to this was the moment. Tom had to realize. He had to promise.

Tom was silent for a moment, making Matthew fear that he would refuse and walk away. He always knew Tom was a good man. Loyal and considerate. But what if he had asked too much of him?

"I promise." Tom finally said, not flinching as he said these words.

"And…" Matthew paused taking a deep breath to help assist with the words he was going to say, "Let her know that it's okay if she finds love-she deserves to be loved Tom. Make sure she is loved-happy." Matthew managed to get out, a sharp pain playing in his heart.

He never considered himself exactly noble or selfless. Never. He considered himself a flawed man but with things concerning Mary he found himself noble. Fearless. Different. A good different. Mary deserved to find love-to find happiness.

Tom yet again paused but after a moment nodded his head silently. Matthew didn't know if this was because there was nothing to say or if Tom simply couldn't find the words in his throat.

"Swear on it-on your life. On your honor." Matthew rasped. He had to know his dear Mary, his beloved Mary would be okay. He wouldn't be able to bear it if he knew Mary would be listless, just barely surviving. He wanted her to _live_.

"I swear." Tom said, emotion playing into his voice as he said this. There was a look of determination in his eyes, a fire Matthew hadn't seen in a long time. A small smile tugged on the dying heir's lips.

"Tom," Matthew thought silently, his vision darkening "was always a good man. Too good actually." He then thought of another thing, something desperately important.

 _Tell Mary I love her so very, very much._

* * *

 **Chapter One:**

* * *

Tom Branson was never one for routine. He supposed if he thought about it he did like some aspects, such as the stability of routine-the safeness of it. But he disliked the receptiveness and how, eventually, it trapped you in its clutches and made you a prisoner of living your life the same day after day.

Unfortunately he felt like he was slowly being enwrapped in it. Wake up. Dress for the day. Go down to breakfast where there was, what is seemed, a permanent empty chair that belonged to one Lady Mary Crawley.

"Susan MacClare, Marchioness of Flintershire has stolen mama's maid." Edith declared, her nose slightly upturned by the thought as she entered the room where Lord of Grantham and Tom were eating a rather light breakfast consisting of fresh fruit, strong coffee and warmed raspberry scones. The second eldest daughter decided to continue as she sat down across from the young Irishman, "But her daughter is a guest at this house." She wrinkled her nose slightly in disgust.

Tom tried to ease the tension that seemed to enter along with Edith, trying to give a small smile, "I'm sure she wouldn't put it like that." Edith scoffed as she laid her napkin in her lap daintily, "I don't care how she puts it, it's absolutely disgraceful."

Just as Edith finished her thought, Rose came in but hid slightly behind the door as if she could sense Edith's daggers that seemed to replace her eyes. Tom acknowledged that Edith and Rose would probably have a few rocky days, perhaps even weeks before they were on good terms again. Even Tom secretly admitted that Miss O'Brien leaving Downton Abbey (although he never found her truly likeable and he was sure she felt the same way about him) was a bit troublesome. Especially when she decided to board a trip to India with a Miss MacClare in tow! Tom imagined the whole staff was talking about it downstairs, creating a ruckus, but no doubt Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes were chiding them to stay on task.

A fleeting emotion of sadness rose up in Tom's throat but he quickly dismissed such a silly emotion. He was still struggling with his identity but had come to terms that him being in service was in his past. Now….well now he didn't know where he stood on the pyramid figuratively speaking.

He dismissed the thought and shifted to his agenda for today. Today was the day he would try to propose for Mary to come along and see the plantation with him. He knew Robert was very protective of his eldest daughter, especially considering the state she was in but a walk was a harmless thing. Tom decided it would be good for her to have some fresh air in her lungs and to capture some of the faint sun's rays. After all he did promise Matthew to look after her and Tom took his promises seriously. He would keep his word. The dirty blonde haired man gave a small invisible nod to himself. He would ask today.

"I'll be in London tomorrow. I'll put an advertisement in _The Lady_." Edith offered as she helped herself to a scone, drawing Tom Branson away from his thoughts. He watched as she used her butter knife and put a small helping of preserves on the baked sweet bread.

Robert stood, the morning paper in his grasp as he turned towards the door, "Good." Giving a small nod of approval he gazed out the window for a brief moment, taking in the dull weather. He then turned to Tom, "We're meeting Trent at eleven o'clock." He was of course talking about how he and Tom were supposed to visit a surrounding piece of land near the estate that could possibly be well enough for their proposed operation.

Tom nodded, putting his plan into motion, "I'll see you there." He paused briefly to form the words he wanted to say, "I was wondering if Mary might like to come." He said this casually but he couldn't help but notice Edith give him a curious look. It was true that he and Mary were not best friends, but they were certainly close acquaintances and his request seemed innocent enough.

However much to Tom's disappointment his father in law shook his head in an instant, "Don't bother Mary. She's got enough on her plate." With a quick glance at his son, the Earl walked out of the room, shutting the door with a crisp click. Tom frowned at the response that Robert gave but didn't follow him in hopes of persuading him. He instead decided to try to survive the daggers Edith was continuing to send Rose.

"Did you really not know anything?" Edith asked suspiciously as she sipped her tea. Her words seemed neutral enough but Tom observed the fire in her eyes. He gave a small chuckle to himself. He never figured Edith to be the fire and brimstone daughter of the Crawley family. He always assumed it was Mary who held that responsibility.

Rose seemed to pick up on Edith's glare that was personally for her and gave a sour her a sour expression in turn, "I didn't actually think O'Brien and mama would go through with it."

Tom, uncomfortable by the animosity that was thick in the room turned to his own newspaper and opened it, pretending to scan the contents. After a few minutes of him trying to endure the two girls' snide remarks to each other he excused himself to get ready for the walk he planned to take regardless if Mary wouldn't come, or better yet regardless of Robert's advice to not ask her.

As he came to the bottom of the stairs which led to the second floor, he stopped briefly and looked towards the direction where Mary's bedroom was.

Surely if he asked…

He once again pushed his incoming thoughts away. Robert made it clear not to ask her and he didn't want to anger the man. Tom needed him in good spirits for today's expedition of surveying the nearby land. And perhaps the Earl was right. Robert was her father so he obviously saw Mary more often than he himself did and if the Earl said Mary was in a delicate state today, then he would take Robert's word.

With a satisfied hum he turned to the foyer to slip on his warm tan corduroy coat and gray wool hat and within the minute he was off on his walk in the brisk weather.

* * *

True to his word, he met Robert and Mr. Trent Marsh, a man who knew the surrounding land well (or at least better than Robert and himself did) at eleven o'clock sharp. Mr. Marsh turned out to be a man of few words but was respectable and showed them all they asked to see during their tour of the extensive farm and buildings.

While the land seemed to be in good shape and the soil fertile, rich with nutrients, the buildings were in a troublesome shape. Perhaps it was the lousy gray English weather but with the gray lighting and chilled air, the buildings seemed to be sagging and vines seemed to be inching their way up the sides of multiple buildings, fighting for control.

However, while Tom saw this, he was not deterred. He and Matthew had a vision for this land, and not acting on such a vision would surely secure the downfall of Downton. And, as much as Tom disliked higher society, he had slowly discovered that perhaps not all of the wealthy were bad. Downton Abbey, Tom deemed, was perhaps the exception.

With a knowing glance from Robert, Tom Branson disappointedly turned to Mr. Marsh, giving him a genuine 'Thank you'. Mr. Marsh gave a clearly forced smile before wishing them well, before both of the men of the Crawley household set off down the long stone lane, the sound of gravel crunching beneath their boots. Tom held the highest hopes that perhaps this piece of land would be suitable for the operation Matthew and him had so longed for. Robert however, was clearly not convinced.

"He was bound to be disappointed." Robert said as soon as they were out of ear shot of Mr. Marsh. Tom grimaced, disappointed with himself that he wasn't able to convince Robert that this piece of land was perfect for their plan of a pig farm.

"You're really sure you want to abandon the whole plan?" he asked tentatively. It was obvious that Robert believed a pig farm was not in the best interests of the estate. Every piece of land they had looked at was decided to be unsuitable according to the Earl. It began to be frustrating for Tom.

Robert gave a stiff nod, "We don't have a choice. We have to find the death duties on half the estate, and they'll be merciless." He gave a sigh before gazing at the sky. Tom knew he was talking about the authorities of the law and he knew that Robert was right, they would be merciless.

Tom gave a verbal acknowledgement that what Robert was saying was the truth, "I know that but I wish we could wait for Mary to come back into play." He said even though he knew his argument a bit weak but still a response nevertheless.

Tom watched carefully as he watched Robert's spine stiffen at Tom's argument, "She isn't a player, Tom. She has a life interest in one third of Matthew's share of Downton and a third of his other possessions, nothing more and nothing less. Everything else belongs to dear little George who clearly isn't at age yet."

"And that's all the law gives her?" Tom said with a bitter taste in his mouth. The sour taste in his mouth tasted like copper. It made his mood worsen a bit.

Robert carried on, ignoring Tom's question even though Tom knew the answer, "He should have made a will, if he did everything would be much clearer."

 _"But Matthew didn't know he would die,"_ Tom shouted internally, _"He didn't know death would be unfair to him and take him at a young age."_ Tom of course knew he couldn't say this out loud. It would sadden Robert. Sadden himself. Instead he changed the subject slightly, "Mary's George's guardian. Surely that gives her some sort of say?" he argued. He dearly hoped there was a loophole of some sort, and he was intent on finding it.

Robert was tired of Tom's questions, wanting to end the subject entirely, "It's a moot point. Since I own the other half of everything isn't it more appropriate for me to manage the boy's fortunes?" he paused before carrying on, "Besides she's in such a fragile state, the last thing I want is for her to start worrying about money."

Tom refused to be deterred, "Of course Robert, but don't you think-"

"You've seen her. She hardly has the energy to left a fork to her mouth." Robert snapped. This surprised Tom for he usually thought Robert a calm, sensible man who had his emotions in check. Tom supposed it was all the sadness Robert kept inside for the sake of Mary's state. Tom reminded himself Robert dearly missed Matthew as well. They all did.

"She loved him very much." Tom Branson said softly, pausing in his steps for second to glance at the landscape around him. She loved Matthew to such a great extent. Just as he loved Sybil. Tom closed his eyes trying to conceal the painful tug on his heart. His Sybil.

Robert followed suit, kicking some gravel. He was silent for a few moments before opening his mouth to speak, "And the price of great love is great misery when one of you dies." Robert declared finally.

"I know that." Tom said with a slight edge of irritation in his voice. Suddenly it was him who couldn't keep his emotions in check. How ironic.

Robert flinched but nodded, his facial expressions softening, "Of course you do. I'm so sorry." He paused awkwardly, "We better get back or we'll be late for lunch."

Tom nodded silently, still trying to erase the pain that occupied his chest. Both of them sprang into their step, continuing their journey down the lane and neither of them saying anything for the remainder of the trip.

* * *

Tom Branson and Robert Crawley arrived just a few minutes before lunch much to both of their delight. The warm fires that were lit throughout the rooms of the Crawley estate were greatly welcomed by both men who were chilled by the bone by the bitter nip of the winter air outside.

As soon as both men shed their hats and coats they made their way to Robert's study and the library of Downton Abbey. Robert of course led the way (only slightly) while Tom stayed a few paces behind lost in his own thoughts.

Tom wondered if Mary would decide to make an appearance today, even if it was for a fleeting moment. He hadn't seen her in quite some time since she ordered to eat her meals in her bedroom and stayed cooped up in there ever since the accident. Of course all of the family members, even Edith, tried to coax her out of her chambers but it was useless. It was finally decided by Robert that Mary would come down in her own time. Tom just wanted to know when that time particularly was. Would it be today? Tonight? Tomorrow morning? He knew she was hurting, but he learned from his own experience that hurting alone with no company only made the pain worse. It had been six months. It was time for her to face the world and all the events she had missed throughout those six dreary months.

Tom's thoughts were broken by Robert's voice, "Remind her it's an open invitation. If she wants to see her grandson or feels like some company, she just has to turn up." Cora gave an encouraging smile to Edith who in turn, nodded, "I'll tell her."

Tom took a seat, a little bit distanced from the rest of the group but no one seemed to notice to his relief for they were all consumed by the current conversation. He had learned that he liked being part of the Crawley family, but he also liked being independent and watch them like a spectator watched a sport: observing but not a part of the game.

They were clearing talking about Isobel Crawley. Tom wondered how Isobel was getting along, and was tempted to, if he knew her better, visit her. But he knew this was out of the question. While he had gotten along rather well with Matthew, he had never spoken much to Isobel. Though Tom supposed she was a rather swell person who meant well even though she did have a fondness for interfering. But that was perhaps one of the qualities that made her so genuine and likable.

He watched as Rose sipped her tea before speaking casually, "I might come with you." She then set her cup and saucer down on the tea table before folding her hands in her lap. Edith looked a bit repulsed by the thought. Tom supposed the Crawley sister was still upset with Rose, but at least the daggers from her eyes had lessened.

Edith forced the tiniest smile on her face, "I don't think so. I don't think she's up to seeing many people." Tom silently applauded Edith for at least pretending she liked Rose. It was an improvement from this morning.

Rose looked at her squarely in the face, giving a strained smile back, "I only meant the village." She said a bit curtly before picking up her tea and giving it a small sip. Tom noted on the other hand that Rose seemed less capable of masking her emotions towards Edith.

Cora changed the subject, "Edith, are you really going up to London tomorrow? Because I have a couple of errands if you are." She looked at her daughter sweetly and earnestly. Tom wondered what exactly the errands were but decided not to comment. He reminded himself he was here as a spectator.

Edith's face suddenly took on a bashful look, her eyes fluttering to the rim of tea cup as a small tint of blush crawled up her cheeks, "I'm seeing Michael Gregson."

"He must have missed you while you've been here." Cora said, beaming at her daughter's response. Cora had always hoped Edith would find love just as her two daughters had, but she knew Edith's luck was….well non-existent most times. Regardless, Cora dearly hoped that Michael Gregson would be the key to Edith's long and permanent happiness.

Edith beamed back, clearly happy the subject was concerning her. Her eyes shone as she smiled widely to both of her parents, "He's giving a party to introduce me to his literary friends." She informed that eagerly.

Tom watch as Cora gave a soft smile while Robert on the other hand looked as he had just swallowed a lemon. The contrast was startling and it made Branson laugh softly. Cora glanced over just in time to see Robert's expression as well, "How exciting." She said before she gave a pointed look at her husband, "Isn't it Robert?"

The Earl of Grantham decided not to comment.

* * *

Mr. Carson sounded the gong faithfully at its usual time of six o'clock, announcing to the Crawley household that it was time for supper. With a quick glance in the mirror, Tom straightened his black bow tie before heading down for supper.

As he walked into the dining room he noticed Moseley seeming quite nervous as he carried in a hot platter of ham. Tom thought Moseley was a good man, high in spirits for the most part but tonight he seemed different. Tom wondered what happened for Moseley to be this way, hoping it was nothing too serious. He knew that because of Matthew's death Moseley's days of being employed were probably numbered since there was no need for an extra valet around. He had pondered if he should ask Robert if Moseley could be his valet even though he always insisted he never needed one. Tom never liked being fussed over and the thought of someone dressing him made him uncomfortable. It once again reminded him of the position he held in the household. He was no longer a chauffeur but a family member.

Regardless, Tom hoped there was some way Moseley could keep being employed at Downton. As he took a seat he noticed Edith seemed to be in particularly good spirits, good enough to even make some small talk to Rose who sat next to her. Cora was already seat next to the head of the table while Violet was seated in between the two of them. Tom turned to his right to make pleasant enough talk with Violet who was always entertaining when it came to her responses.

"Have you seen Mary lately? Is she coming down for dinner?" Violet interrogated him. Her eyes peered at him, filled with curiosity and hope. Hope that unfortunately Tom would have to snuff out.

"Mary hasn't been down today, and I doubt she'll be down for supper tonight." Tom said a bit morose by the thought of the eldest Crawley daughter locking herself in the room and probably not eating a bite of the food that would be brought up to her.

The Countess hummed with disapproval, "Well I hope she knows she's being a bit over dramatic. I always knew she was one for the stage." She then laid her cream cloth napkin in her lap before taking a small sip of her water glass. Tom gave a small smile, the image of Mary being on stage before his eyes.

Mary being an actress was a very probable thought.

"Where is Robert?" Cora inquired as she turned towards Carson who was standing near the cart of food that was ready to serve. Carson's brow furrowed, "I do not kn-"

"I'm sorry for the delay." Robert's voice declared as he walked in briskly from the room. A moment later, a few paces behind, a stiff figure walked in the room donned in a black dress. A mourning gown.

The room grew quiet for a moment as the eldest Crawley sister walked in the room, staring straight ahead. Tom quickly remembered his manners and stood for her as she took her seat. His manners seemed to go unnoticed as Mary stared in the distance, obviously in a daze of some sort.

Cora gave a gentle smile of assurance to her husband, "Not to worry."

Violet's eyes grew big, "We were about to send out a search party." She said with a hint of sarcasm. Of course the Countess would never say anything purely sarcastic and let her voice give it away. Perhaps she was trying to lighten the mood for this was the first time in months she decided to eat in the dining room with the family.

The conversation at dinner was forced but no one really cared or complained for Mary had chosen to appear in public. It almost seemed too good to be true.

Out of all of them Cora seemed the most natural. As the first course was being served she turned to Jimmy, "How are you tonight James?" she asked in good manners.

Jimmy gave her a polite smile, "As good as I can be, my Lady." He said as he lowered his arm to present the platter of meat in front of her. She carefully picked up the tongs to serve herself, "I trust the downstairs staff are in all good health." She inquired as she helped herself to a serving of meat before placing the tongs back on the embellished platter.

The footman gave a short nod, "Yes, your Grace. All the ladies are excited for St. Valentine's Day tomorrow."

Carson coughed slightly, "That will be all James." He gave a slight nod at the footman before stepping in and replacing him, swiftly but smoothly taking the meat platter from James' grasp. Tom watched as James' eyes slid to the carpet as if he was taking a sudden interest in the finely woven tapestry. Tom silently sympathized with the young footman. He acknowledged Jimmy was a hard worker who had the hopes of moving up-perhaps one day being a valet or even a butler.

James took Carson's comment well with a silent nod of his head before he turned to help Moseley who was fumbling with a polished silver platter that had many varieties of artisan cheese and bread filled with a strong aroma of herbs.

Tom let his thoughts wander, something that he allowed lately. He mentally scolded himself for how could he have forgotten that it was St. Valentine's tomorrow? Tom never considered himself a true romantic who recited memorized poems and wrote numerous love letters, but he could not deny that he was slightly ashamed he forgot St. Valentine's Day. With a sharp twinge of sadness Sybil's sweet face was conjured in his mind. If she had been alive, he would have perhaps purchased some chocolate at the sweet shop in the village or found some of her favorite flowers-lilies. He willed himself to think of something else, anything else for he couldn't bear the pain he was experiencing. His poor, sweet Sybil. She would have no doubt enjoyed the sweets. She always had a fondness for sweet things.

He then decided that he would go down to the village early tomorrow morning and buy some chocolate for himself and Sybbie. He could picture his daughter's face lighting up with joy as she popped a small square of chocolate in her mouth. He smiled at the thought, though his action went unnoticed and then glanced at Mary. She seemed very pale, almost the complexion of the moon he had fondly stared at when he couldn't find sleep which happened most nights. Dark shadows lingered under her eyes and her lips were chapped, drawn in a thin line.

He wondered if Mary had acquired a taste for sweet things such as chocolate.

"Not that it's any of my concern." Tom silently told himself. He was merely curious. His curiosity was interrupted with Mary pushing back her chair.

"Excuse me, I find myself feeling unwell." Mary suddenly declared before she rose from her seat as if she was like the early morning fog before taking her gloves in hand and gracefully striding to the exit. Tom quickly stood up watching her move soundlessly around the dining room.

"Shall we send something up?" Cora asked, clearly concerned for it was etched on her face.

"No. Don't bother." She replied tiredly as if she had faced a long hard day. She quickly exited the room silently, the door closing after her as if to signal that Mary really was gone. Tom glanced around the room, noticing that he was the only one who stood. With a slight tinge of embarrassment he sat down rather quickly.

"And just when I thought normalcy was back into the household." The Dowager Countess said with a small sigh as she poked the contents of her meal with her silver fork.

"You should know Grandmama that normalcy isn't a trait in this household." Edith said bitterly. Tom had always known that Edith and Mary were never on the best terms but tonight he could clearly see the look of disdain in her eyes.

Tom was becoming more and more convinced that Edith was becoming the fire and brimstone daughter of the household.

Rose gave a dreamy smile with a slightly distant look appearing in her eyes, "I think it's all rather romantic." After a moment she then looked at the faces around the table, "Doesn't anyone else think so?"

Violet gave a small choking noise as she quickly reached for her water glass. Taking a small sip she gave a small sharp glance at the young MacClare, "You would be the only one."

* * *

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